Imagine Dean stealing your glasses
by Supernaturalimagine
Summary: Imagine Dean stealing your glasses on the day you can't find your contacts and not giving them back until you kiss him.


Blind.

That's what you were.

Completely _blind_.

You just had to clean your bathroom last night, didn't you? Ugh, now you remember why you never did that, you always lose _something_. Last time, it was your toothbrush. Time before that, your hand lotion. This time?

This time it was your eyes.

Okay, not _really_ your eyes, but it certainly felt that way, considering you were practically knocking everything over trying to find your contact case.

After what felt like an hour of looking, you finally shoved the medicine chest shut, and held your hands out in front of you, shuffling towards the door. Why did you leave your glasses in the living room?

Today was certainly _not_ your day, at least not yet.

Sighing, you squinted into the room you were walking into, seeing the incredibly blurry shape of who you were guessing was Dean on the couch. He shifted, and turned towards you – you thought – before he started laughing a little.

Yep, it was Dean.

"What's with the squinting?"

"I can't find my contacts, are my glasses over there?" you ask, squinting at him and letting your hands fall to your sides. He shifted on the couch, still snickering, and shuffled a few of the magazines on the side table before his blurred form climbed to his feet.

"Yeah, they're over here…what do I get if I bring them to you?"

"I won't kick you in the ass."

He continued to laugh, and started towards you…except once he was passed the couch, he turned, and headed towards the kitchen. Your jaw fell open, a squeak of protest coming out, as he turned back to see you.

"What do I get?"

"Dean! I need those to see, or I'm going to be a bruised mess tomorrow, come on!" you beg, almost whine, as you stomp your foot. Dean laughs again out loud, and you can hear him calling out as he walks into the kitchen.

"You are a grown woman, did you just stomp your foot?"

"I need those!"

"Why did you lose your contacts?" he asked, as you slowly felt your way into the kitchen.

"Oh, gee, yes, I did it on purpose, Winchester, _please_ give me my glasses." He hummed, shrugging a little, before coming a bit closer to you.

"Tell you what, you give me what I ask for, and I'll let you have them."

It was never good, when the boys decided what they wanted. You still remembered the wrestling match with Sam when you asked him to bring you a beer, and that was over a year before. Sighing, and planting your hands on your hips, you frowned, but nodded.

"Anything, Dean, I just need my glasses, I can't even see _you_, and you're not too far from me." That made him smirk – you couldn't see him, but you knew it – and you blushed as you waited.

"I want a kiss." You widened your eyes, and quirked your brow.

"…what?"

"You heard me."

This was Dean Winchester, ladies man, macho man, not afraid to ask for or take what he wants. He had more women in his bed (or theirs, depending) than you could count – mostly because, after a while, you stopped trying. It was hard, you just adored Dean – despite everything – and you were sure, so sure, he just saw you as a friend, the girl that hung around and hunted with them despite their initial arguments. But here he was, asking you for a kiss, and it was so simple. He sounded so sure of himself.

Though the longer you stood, quietly, blinking at his blurred form, you could see him bending, becoming nervous that you would rather go blind.

Clearing your throat, you ducked your head, and blushed, biting at your bottom lip.

"…okay." Your voice was soft, barely a whisper, and he shifted closer, brow raised.

"…what?" A small smile curled the corner of your mouth, and you raised your head, shrugging.

"I think you heard me."

With that smile still curled on your lips, you shifted closer, and pushed yourself up to be eye-to-eye with the older Winchester. Gently, you slid your hand up, around his bicep, and leaned in, pressing your lips over his. They were dry, but they were soft, and your eyes fluttered along with your heart when his free hand curled around your hip to pull you closer.

For a moment, it was simple, lip-to-lip, no pressure, no tongue, and you finally pulled back, hesitating to open your eyes. The cool touch of the stems of your glasses startled you, but upon opening your eyes, Dean stood close to you still, completely in focus, and smiling almost shyly.

"How's that?"

"Much better," you reply softly, cupping his face in your hands as you pull him in for another kiss.

By ~ multiplepeople at Tumblr


End file.
